


Into Darkness

by TwistedSecret



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alien Biology, Claustrophobia, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:07:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26194636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedSecret/pseuds/TwistedSecret
Summary: Whilst trying on a new garment that Garak made for him the station is suddenly plunged into darkness. Forcing Julian and Garak to confront their fears and desires.
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Elim Garak, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 43
Kudos: 91





	1. Chapter 1

Today was rapidly turning into the day from hell. It was like being back at the academy where the endless varied cases are designed to test your limits. How far could you be pushed before the relentless pace broke you and left you ill equipped to perform the task at hand. 

The days on deep space nine went by at a relatively easy pace, intermingled with the odd emergency here and there. Today however the surgery had been rammed all morning with emergency after emergency coming through the doors. Cases ranged from a simple broken finger, to a possible case of Teplan Blight. Luckily the latter was a false alarm or the whole station would have been under quarantine. 

The surgery would have coped well enough if it wasn't for nurse Jabara being on last minute personal leave. It had left the surgery understaffed and unable to cope with the influx of patients. After finally managing to get through all the emergencies, he then had to finish the resulting paperwork to go with each case. Glancing at the time he was shocked to see it was now mid-afternoon, long past his lunch with Garak. To make matters worse it wasn’t the first time he had found himself so busy that he had lost track of time. 

He was probably going to need some sort of peace offering to get out of this one. Stopping by his quarters he picks up a small box of delavian chocolates that he has stashed away. Knowing it’s Garak’s favorite chocolates he hopes this might go towards some forgiveness on Garak’s part. It certainly couldn't hurt to try.

Rummaging through his draws he finds the ribbon that was tied around a gift he received from Garak a few years ago. With amusement he wraps the ribbon around the box and makes a little bow. It looked a little over the top like something he would give to a date. Garak should find the bow amusing enough as it had been Garak's original idea after all. If Garak had deemed the gesture appropriate then he couldn't see a problem with him returning the ribbon in kind.

Hurrying towards Garak’s shop he mentally chides himself for being late. How he manages to get himself into these situations is beyond him, this time he wasn’t just late to meet Garak, he hadn’t turned up altogether. Garak might overlook him being a little late, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t be quite so forgiving this time.

Being the gentleman Garak probably would have sat there waiting for him, just assuming he was running late like other times in the past. How long would he have sat waiting, slowly eating his food whilst waiting for him to turn up. He was most likely Garak's only friend on the station, his only means of comfortable conversation amidst a sea of people that hate, despised or simply didn't trust him.

Oh they definitely had good reason not to if the rumor's were to be believed. But still, it wasn't nice to be stood up. Simply sat waiting before you just assumed I wasn't coming. Would he have waited long before just ordering and eating alone? Or would he have just returned to his shop giving up on the idea of food entirely. 

An uncomfortable guilt surged within him.

At his request Garak had been working on a new outfit that would work with his new holonovel perfectly. He had made time to fit it in around his other work, always seeming happy to sort things out for him. Of all the ways he could repay Garak for sorting this, and this is what he manages to do.

His old suit is now beyond repair from overuse. He found himself wanting something different, perhaps something Vintage in style. A new spy novel based in 19th century London had not long been released and was the talk of the station. He was excited to try the new program with Miles the following week.

Being late afternoon it was fairly quiet on the promenade. The odd customer could be seen in the various shops. Walking past quarks he could only see Morn sitting at the bar, sipping a drink deep in discussion with Quark. 

Upon entering the shop he spots Garak towards the back with a customer. Noticing his arrival Garak acknowledges his arrival with a slight inclination of his head before resuming his discussion. 

Taking a moment to compose himself after his dash through the station he moves to appraise the current fashion trends on display. 

Not long after, Garak appears at his side as the customer he was dealing with leaves the shop with a garment bag under her arm.

“Garak,” he says, still slightly breathless from his fast walk over. “I’m sorry about lunch. It’s been a hell of a morning and I didn't realize how late it had gotten.”

“Don’t worry doctor. It was the highlight of my day waiting for over an hour for you to show up. I hadn’t realized the value you placed on my time. Deciding it wouldn’t matter to forgo lunch entirely today.” There was no hint of the usual smirk. Just an annoyed, cold expression.

“Alright I know this has happened a few times now, and I am truly sorry. Please let me make it up to you though? How about dinner tonight... on me? I will even be on time." 

Noticing the unchanged cold expression he hurries on before Garak can refuse him and continues. 

"And in case you're still hungry I have something for you,” grinning he holds up the little box of chocolates. 

Garak takes the box from him and takes in his guilty pleading expression. 

Perhaps the chocolates were enough for a second chance. Or closer to a fifth chance by now, as it's clear he's fighting back a small smile at the wrapping. "Thank you. These are most appreciated. It's been a while since I have been able to get hold of a box."

His expression softens and he lets out a soft sigh.

"Dinner this evening would be nice. If you don't mind, could I suggest we try one of the other restaurants? It would be a welcome change from the usual fare in the Replimat."

Taking this to mean he's forgiven, and the fact that he's unable to wait any longer, he quickly asks, “So…, is it ready? Can I try it on?” He finds it hard to keep the excitement from his voice.

“Really doctor, must you be so impatient. Patience, does have its rewards you know.”

Garak moves over to a shelf and picks up a parcel before moving back towards Julian. “I made the last finishing touches yesterday. I do create fine work and find I am quite pleased with the outcome. I must admit to some surprise as to having pockets in the sleeves of the jacket. Hidden compartments is not something I myself have considered having”.

Garak somehow manages to look completely sincere with this statement, obviously spinning his lies of deception is now second nature to him. 

“You don't actually expect me to believe that do you? Someone as secretive as you no doubt has hidden weapons and surveillance equipment. I would bet my life on a weapon or two concealed on you.”

With a mixture of amusement and exasperation Garak hands the parcel to him.

“Oh please Doctor, not this again. What are you insinuating? I am but a simple tailor. What need would I have to be concealing weapons? This spy obsession of yours is getting out of hand.”

“Sure Garak, whatever you say. Keep to your lies if that pleases you.” Smiling, he accepts the package and steps into a changing room pulling the curtain closed behind him. 

Quickly pulling off his clothes he discards them haphazardly on the floor before opening the package and starting to pull on the new suit. It’s quite an elaborate garment in a late Victorian design. He pulls on a white shirt which comes with a detachable collar and cuffs. It's detailed with ruffles running down his chest and around the cuffs. After this he puts on a pair of black striped trousers. A zip has yet to be invented in this era so he needs to button them up. Belts hadn’t become fashionable yet either so his trousers are being held up by suspenders. Over this he puts on a tight fitted black waistcoat. The last layer is a matching black frock. It's also a slim fit with a narrow skirt falling to mid-thigh. The finished effect is mesmerizing.

Garak had kept to the brief perfectly and its an exact replica of Victorian fashion. He couldn't fault Garak’s attention to detail as he looked simply amazing. 

“Garak?” he calls excitedly, “it’s perfect. You have outdone yourself my friend. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

The curtain is pulled aside as Garak steps into the cubicle with him. He eyes the discarded clothing on the floor in distaste at his careless attitude. 

"Must you treat your clothing this way. Even your hideous uniform should not be thrown about so carelessly."

Glancing down he quickly gathers up his clothing and places it on a stool in front of him. "Yeah sorry. I was a little excited to try this on."

Garak then glances up looking into the mirror opposite them. His eyes widen before pausing to take in the finished effect of the outfit. With a slow sweep, his eyes roam down his body as he checks out the outfit. His eyes linger for a moment on the figure hugging waistcoat which clings to his waist. His eyes finally come to rest on his own and for once Garak almost seems speechless. 

His expression shows appreciation for what he sees in front of him. Feeling hot and flustered under Garak’s intense gaze he shifts awkwardly feeling nervous. He doesn't often feel nervous, not caring if he's on display. What's more he finds himself wanting Garak’s approval of the outfit. He finds himself wanting to look good in the outfit. Feeling nervous he absent mindedly tugs the bottom of his waistcoat.

“I must admit the fashion of this period is quite fascinating. The detail they put into the design is admirable. It was a joy to create this for you. And I must say….You wear it well." His blue eyes are piercing. "Now, I do need to check for any alterations. May I?” 

Nodding his permission Garak moves in front of him and crouches down eye level with his groin. Hands are placed at the waistband of the trousers with his fingers resting on the top so that the back of his fingers are inside the trousers against his lower belly. The brush of cool finders against his warm skin has him gasping and letting out an involuntary shudder. Feeling a gentle tug the fabric moves away from his belly in what he assumes is Garak checking they are not too loose or too tight.

Seemingly satisfied with the fit he runs his hands down the inside of each leg starting near the junction of his thighs then moving his hands down to his ankles. The movement seems deliberately slow and erotic.

The almost contact with such an intimate area has him suppressing a moan. Closing his eyes he takes a slow breath steadying himself. Garak on his knees in front of him is not what he needs to be thinking about right now. Feeling flustered he keeps still and averts his gaze focusing on the curtains reflected in the mirror. 

Seemingly satisfied, Garak stands up. “Arms out to the side please.” He then proceeds to run his hands over his sides and down to his waist. “Is the sizing suitable? The trousers fit nicely but the waistcoat seems a little snug.” 

“No Garak, It’s perfect. It’s keeping true to the time period as garments would often be a close fit. I will take it as it is thanks.”

Nodding Garak steps out giving him some privacy to change back into his uniform. He takes one last look in the mirror before starting to unbutton the outer frock. 

Suddenly in the distance a loud crack could be heard followed by what sounds like an explosion. The floor under his feet shakes before a shock wave ripples through the station. Outside the changing room, crashing shelving and breaking glass can be heard. The feeling is similar to that of an earthquake. A crackle of electricity can be heard before the lights flicker above him. The flickering lasts a few seconds before finally plunging the shop into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Darkness is a curious thing. It can be the symbol of evil, mystery or even paranoia. It’s the monster under your bed waiting in the dark to swallow you whole. To many it's the embodiment of fear. The reaction to darkness is different for each person. It is something with many faces. It’s a friend at the end of a long day, softly lulling you to sleep. It’s an unseen threat in the darkness. 

With the absence of light, like the situation now, it is a danger hiding unseeable threats. 

It is true what they say, losing your sight amplifies your other senses. Faint sounds of movement can be heard outside the shop, most likely people trying to navigate through the promenade in the dark. Not only could you hear and feel the aftershock of the explosion, you can also smell it. The air is warm and you can almost taste the stench on the air. It’s a distinctive smell of burning metal and plastic. The faint taste combined with the smell has him reeling. His heart is hammering in his chest and the tips of his fingers pulse with the beat of his heart.

The sounds on the promenade are becoming easier to hear. Sharp and focused. The movement outside is now Intermingled with shouting and panicked conversation. 

A computerized warning begins sounding. “Explosion detected in upper pylon three, resulting in a station wide power outage. Repair crews dispatched. Stay calm and where you are.” The recording stops before beginning to repeat itself.

This wasn’t a good sign. 

“Bashir to ops?” Silence, no answer meets his call.

“Bashir to Odo?” Again, no answer. Still, this doesn't necessarily mean anything as it's most likely a result of the power outage. No need to assume the worst as the communications system was most likely just down at the moment. 

The Initial shock of it all and the chaos after has him thinking of worst case scenarios. Were they under attack? Were the Breen or Vorta attacking the station? Were they about to be boarded? It’s hard to not simply jump to the worst conclusions. He had received training for this type of situation at the academy as doctors needed to be able to perform under duress in an unknown situation. Being able to keep a rational mind under the threat of an unknown danger. 

The automated announcement had been annoyingly vague. Any number of things could have caused the explosion. A malfunction could possibly be the reason, or it could have easily been caused by weapons fire. For the moment though he was safe and unharmed. The situation could be much worse.

What about the rest of the station though. Were people injured and trapped or perhaps worse, dying. He was the CMO, his duty was to help with the wounded. Not staying safe and waiting it out. It was a simple decision really, he needed to be out there helping with the aftermath. With the decision made, he would make his way out and then provide medical care.

First he needed to get out of the shop. A challenging feat in the dark and with what had sounded like shelving and merchandise falling over in the initial blast. He would need to move carefully feeling around for any unseen rubble within the store.

Turning in place he reaches out for the curtains which should be within arms reach. His fingers enclose on a soft fabric and he pulls it aside and steps through into the rear of the store. With a visual layout of the shop in his head, he places a hand on the wall outside the room. The surface is cold to the touch which is a noticeable difference to the warm air he’s currently breathing. 

Using the wall to guide him through, he makes his way towards what he remembers is the shop entrance. Almost immediately he slips on a piece of clothing and falls onto a garment rack laying across the floor. Pain Lance's up through his knees where he's landed on them. The impact disorientates him for a moment before he's pushing himself into a standing position again. 

This time he makes slow careful steps, sliding his feet along the ground feeling for obstructions. The progress is slow but he makes it into the main shop where new sounds could now be heard. Shuffling and crashing sounds are ahead of him, metal grinding as it’s pushed across the floor. This sound seems much closer, perhaps from within the store itself. 

Feeling a sense of trepidation he moves towards the sound, all thoughts of leaving the store now forgotten.

The sounds continue as he moves warily closer. 

“Garak?” he calls out softly. Only silence meets this with the continued sounds of shuffling and crashing. He takes another cautious step forward towards the sounds. With his hands outstretched feeling for obstructions he presses closer. It is slow progress in the darkness, navigating from shelving to shelving towards the sound. 

The shuffling and crashing is now loud in his ears. Perhaps right in front of him. It had to be Garak. Who else would be shuffling about in this store during a power outage. It's not exactly the type of shop that would attract looters. 

Why was he moving so erratically though? Had he lost or dropped something in the initial confusion of the power outage? Or worse had he injured himself after the power had gone out, and was now staggering around hurt or worse. His heart is frantically beating in his chest, in a mixture of fear and adrenaline.

"Garak?" he calls again softly, not wanting to startle him.

When he still receives no answer he reaches out towards the sound, hoping it’s Garak. 

His fingers close around an upper arm with a grip loose enough to not startle. He feels a thick woven material under his hands. The body underneath is firm and has an uneven lumpy feeling. Which he assumes are Garak's scales continuing down from his neck and shoulders. 

The material under his hands is curiously lacking any body heat. “Garak.” He breathes in relief. Feeling a sense of relief, this must be Garak. He lets out a breath of air. 

His relief is short lived however. As, as soon as he had gripped him, Garak had tensed and sprang into action. He then found himself thrown backwards with a staggering force, slammed into a wall. It felt like being hit by a ton of bricks. 

Winded, he feels a hand grasping his wrist and slamming it against the wall beside his face. The grip is so tight he can feel the nails digging into his skin. Another hand closes around his throat in a choking grip forcing his head forcefully against the wall. Pain sears across the back of his skull from the impact.

Pure panic now pours through him. He's certain it's Garak in front of him. The cool hands on him have no warmth and the distinct smell that is…, well…, Garak. Unmistakably Garak. This person in front of him though couldn’t be his Garak. Only once had Garak physically harmed him, during his withdrawal from the implant. The hand around his throat is now crushingly tight. Pressing so tightly he's struggling to draw breath. 

“Garak.” He manages to force out, struggling to breathe. No answer comes from the body in front of him. Trying to control his panic he tries to push Garak off of him. He's solid though, an unmovable mass. He always knew Garak would be strong but his true strength was staggering. Even with his genetic enhancements he is unable to push him away. 

Self preservation kicks in and with all his might he kicks out, thrusting his knee hard into Garak’s groin. It doesn’t have the desired effect though. With a grunt of annoyance Garak tightens his grip further around his neck. The nails on the hand are now digging into the soft flesh of his neck.

He can now feel a dull ringing in his ears and his heartbeat is thumping loudly. Almost like it is fighting to hold on to life. Onto consciousness. Not willing to give in to the further darkness which is beginning to creep in. 

Finding it hard to concentrate their is now a burning feeling starting to spread out from his chest. It's in his lungs moving out towards his throat, and behind his watering eyes. Slowly the burning fire turns into ice. Like ice coated pins and needles spreading down to tips of your fingers leaving a numbness in its wake.

“Elim,” he manages to breathe out before he starts feeling lightheaded and the ringing becomes louder in his ears. The use of his given name is his last ditch attempt to draw Garak back. Rays of light dot his vision now, like shining through from a slightly open door. This in itself is alarming as the shop was still shrouded in darkness. His heartbeat is now deafening in his ears.

The hand on his throat loosens minutely enough that he manages to draw in a small trickle of air. 

“Elim, It’s Julian.” He repeats. The hand on his throat loosens further still. 

Taking in another breath, his abused muscles constrict and he's painfully coughing. 

"Elim," he repeats again between cough's. 

It hardly sounds like his voice. Quiet and hoarse like a frail old man. 

A gentle puff of air washes over his face before a sound comes out of the darkness.

“Julian?” The sound is small, uncertain, almost a confused whisper. So unlike the normal confident Garak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if I went slightly overboard with the descriptions in this chapter. Hopefully it wasn't too dark. I wanted to portray just how dangerous and scary that situation was. Lighter fluffier stuff to come.


	3. Chapter 3

The small release in pressure at his throat allows him to draw in the small much needed air he so dearly needs. Although the hand at his throat has loosened, it’s still tight enough to be constricting and bordering on painful. He's still tightly pinned between Garak and the wall, unable to move. 

“Elim, you can let me go now,” he gently says.

Garak's body stays tense and unmoving against him. The labored breathing continues echoing loudly off the surrounding walls. 

"Elim, I know this situation is confusing for you, but you aren't in any danger. The power has gone out on the station but we are safe inside your shop. I'm not going to hurt you and if you can let me go I can help you."

Tentatively like he's about to touch a wild injured animal, he puts his free hand onto the exposed ridges above Garak’s tunic and slowly rubs circles into the firm and unyielding scales. Moving only his thumbs, he keeps the pressure light and the movements slow and gentle, moving in what he hopes is a soothing comforting motion. 

"Please Elim, you don’t want to hurt me". He whispers to the darkness. 

Unsure if it's due to his touch or his words but Garak's body jolts, but doesn't move away. Instead the hands slowly release him and move to come to rest on his chest before tightly fisting the fabric. 

Finally feeling like he's getting somewhere he takes deep calming breaths, mentally telling himself that he is fine, and that he is no longer in any immediate danger. 

Taking in a slow inhale, he pauses, and then exhales slowly before repeating again. 

After repeating this a few more times he is now able to breathe easier. As his breathing and panic continue to lessen, he realizes Garak’s breaths are coming out in rapid panicked gasps like he's having trouble breathing himself. With his own panic lessening he moves his other hand to gently clasp Garak’s shoulder and finds the body beneath his hand trembling. 

The hard line of Garak’s body is pressed close against him, leaning on him for support. The hands fisted in his clothing are violently trembling, gripping the fabric in desperation. 

"Doctor, I can't... I can’t... I can't breathe." He chokes out in a desperate voice. Garak's body is trembling against his, and small erratic movements can be felt. Skittering movements like he's trying not to bolt away in his panic.

“Garak you're ok, nothing is going to happen. Focus on me and breathe slow steady breaths.”

Snaking his hands between their bodies he places his hands on top of Garak's. 

It’s harder in the dark to assess the symptoms. Some are blindingly obvious without being able to see them. The confusion, trembling, shortness of breath and you can’t forget the disorientation and panic which had caused him to attack just moments before. For a standard person these could all be easily explained away by the body's natural defense in a dangerous situation. Feeling and hearing the explosion and then the power outage that followed could easily cause a spike in anxiety and adrenaline. 

This seems more than that though, as even with the current situation it's quite unlike the normal Garak. He assumed Garak was used to being in dangerous and tense situations. Having been in a few of these situations with Garak himself this reaction seems out of place. Somehow he thought a situation like this wouldn't phase Garak. Yes it was confusing and scary not quite knowing what was happening, but could that really have caused such a drastic reaction?

“Garak you're having a panic attack. You're going to be ok, just focus on my voice and keep breathing.”

He can’t help letting out a breath of frustration at the situation he's now found himself in. He’d been in similar situations like this one, having to talk someone through a panic attack. It was easy really, just keep them talking, calm and give them something to focus on, whether that be a simple conversation or making them recite something simple like counting to ten. Most panic attacks would last between ten and thirty minutes depending on the severity of claustrophobia the person suffers with. None of those situations had quite been like this one. At least in those situations they were safe, visibly able to see the area around them and generally he didn’t have a close attachment to the patient. He'd also never been attacked and forcibly restrained against a wall unable to breathe whilst trying to do his job.

In situations where he was dealing with a patient going through a panic attack he could see the patient to assess what to do next. See if his words of comfort we're taking affect. All he had now were his hands and ears. This was also a dear friend who refused to show any strong emotion or vulnerability. Always perceiving it as a weakness better buried away, never seen or acknowledged. It was important to keep calm and ground someone having a panic attack by talking them through it. Dealing with Garak needed to be slightly different to the norm. All he wanted to do was wrap his arms around his friend and tell him everything would be ok, but seeing as physical contact was how he found himself forcibly pinned to the wall it wouldn’t be the best of moves. 

The loud labored breathing continues as little puffs of air wash over his face.

"Have you had panic attacks before now? Are you claustrophobic Garak?" 

The silence continues to drag on with Garak’s refusal to answer. He moves his thumbs in slow soothing motions over the back of Garak's hands trying to coax some sort of answer from him.

"I know this isn't something you wish to discuss, but I only want to help you. Whatever you tell me won't make me think any less of you. You're doing great so far." 

“Don’t patronize me Doctor. I’m not a child,” comes the angry retort.

"I’m not patronizing you. I'm only trying to help you through this. Just keep talking to me and we'll get through this. You've had panic attacks before now I take it?" 

For a moment it seemed that an answer wasn't going to be any more forthcoming than his previous questions.

"Yes," is forced out. "Yes but it's not happened in a long time."

"Ok thank you. Tell me how you usually work through it." He encourages hoping Garak will continue.

"I'm not stupid doctor, I know what your trying to do. I am not some medical case that requires your urgent care. I am quite capable of looking after myself." 

He can’t help but outwardly smile at this response. Even in the middle of a panic attack his tongue is as sharp as ever. Thankfully the darkness masks his amusement from Garak. Trust Garak to make this as difficult as possible.

"Humor me Garak. Tell me how you have worked though this in the past."

"It's never been this severe before..." he trails off into silence.

“Talking to me will help. How about we try a simple exercise that should help you. Were going to count to ten. I'm going to start and I want you to join in when you're ready. One, Two, Three..." 

Garak's voice joins his on the count of four and they slowly count together, reaching ten. With relief that this is working he starts at one again repeating the exercise. 

As they are nearing ten again, a loud crash of falling rubble is heard and breaks the flow of their chanting. The fists in his clothing if possible tighten even further.

“This isn’t helping. I need to… I need….. I need to do something. Anything.” The sound is agonized and is heartbreaking. Garak starts to pull away from him. 

An idea comes to him and whilst it’s not exactly appropriate under these circumstances, there is the distinct possibility that it could help Garak. Tightening his hands slightly over Garak’s he carries on. “Alright we're going to try something a little different. If this makes you uncomfortable or you want to stop at any point, you need to let me know. We're going to try a simple touch exercise that I think will help you. All I need you to do is focus on me while I guide you through this. Is it alright if I take your hands?” 

"Yes," comes hesitantly out of the darkness sounding strained and broken. It breaks his heart to hear his friend suffering like this. 

He gently pulls Garak's hands off and away from his clothing. With Garak's hands held loosely in his own he places them onto his own cheeks. Using his own fingers over Garak's he runs their joined finger tips slowly across his cheeks.

"I want you to focus on my face and take note of our differences. I want you to talk me through what you feel."

It feels weird talking whilst having someone cup your face. It's rather more intimate than he thought it would be. 

"I don’t understand Doctor?" 

Keeping a hold of Garak's hand he runs Garak's fingers across his cheeks again, trailing gently across the stubble that coats his face.

"Can I touch you?" He asks a little more bluntly than he'd intended to.

"Touch me?" Garak repeats with surprise and a touch of amusement.

"Your face. Can I touch your face to show you what I mean?" He stammers out nervously, hastily correcting himself.

"You may yes."

Releasing one of Garak's hands he places his own against Garak's cheek and runs his fingers across the skin. It's smoother and softer than he had imagined it would be. It's not soft like his own skin, more like a silky leather that's cool to the touch, like he's been standing outside on a cool day. Unlike a humans slightly oily texture it's dry but supple. 

"Use your hands to feel the differences between us. For example you're quite different to me. I'm -"

"Rather delicate." Garak finishes for him. 

"I'm not delicate," he can't help but snap back indignantly. "My skin is just a little softer than yours. My body also produces a natural oil to keep it from drying out. It's why I probably feel slightly oily to you."

“You misunderstood me. It wasn’t meant negatively.”

Garak's fingers move of their own accord now, along his cheeks and down his chin lightly caressing the little growth he's now sporting. His touch is hesitant and light across his skin. Surprisingly these small hesitant touches ignite a warmth much lower down than comfortable in this situation.

Not knowing if it's appropriate to carry on touching Garak, he lets his hands fall limply to his sides.

"Is this usually so rough and spiky? It always looks so smooth. It’s so…. rough."

He's relieved to hear the gasping panicked breathing starting to lessen, the words becoming easier to get out. Chuckling he says "I shave each morning. This is just my 5 o'clock shadow."

"I don't think the translator picked that up correctly, as I'm not sure what the time and shadows have to do with this."

"It's an old earth saying that refers to the stubble men get in the afternoon when it's been a while since last having a shave". It's easy to forget the little earth phrases that slip off his tongue without a moment's thought that Garak wouldn't understand.

"How about my ears then?" He pushes on not quite managing to keep the eagerness out of his voice. This was a much more sensual experience than he thought it would be, the feel of fingers gently flowing across his skin wasn't unwelcome. He'd often thought about touching Garak and being touched by him. Fantasy though was completely different to reality. From the first hesitant touches came the first signs of arousal. He was starting to take notice of the touches. Embarrassingly he was starting to get hard. 

Garak's breathing and speech are slowly returning to a normal steady rhythm. If only his own we're remaining that way as well. As soon as the tender curious touches started he had wanted more, craved more, and preferably in a much more intimate location. Garak must be able to hear his heart, for it was beating faster and louder with each passing moment. No matter how much he wanted things to go further between them it was wrong to use Garak this way. The last thing he wanted to do was take advantage of his friend in his moment of weakness and then have him regret it after things went back to normal.

Feeling flustered he tries moving his hips as far away from Garak's body as possible, which isn't as far as he'd like as he's already pressed against the wall with nowhere else to go. The last thing he needs is for Garak to notice his arousal. 

He drops his own fingers from Garak's face, not trusting himself to carry on in their mutual exploration. 

The fingers trail down his ears caressing the soft skin of his lobes, a gentle tug sends a shiver through him. Even doing his best to stay quiet he can't help releasing a gasp at the tug. Who would have thought the ears could be a place to cause arousal. 

"You're so smooth, and your ears are quite… flexible." To emphasize his point he flicks them. 

His moan breaks through his lips at the touch. Deciding it’s best to stay silent, he doesn’t respond, merely stays still mentally willing his body back under his control. He definitely shouldn't be moaning, enjoying these tender touches. Where had his professionalism gone?

Garak leans forward and whispers, "close your eyes," into his ear. The breath against his ear makes him shiver and he feels himself become if possible even harder. He doesn't even hesitate to follow the command, closing his eyes and waiting to see what Garak does next.

The fingers trail across his eyes so gently he can barely feel the touch. The movement across his eyelashes tickles, causing the warm feeling to spread further south and intensify. 

The fingers now slide to his eyebrows. The thumbs gently slide across in the same direction as the hair.

"Humans have a lot of facial hair. How do you keep everything so neat and tidy?"

"I'm fairly natural and only shave but some people, especially women, spend longer grooming. Plucking their eyebrows -"

"You rip your facial hair out?" He interrupts with alarm "Whatever for?"

He snorts at the comment. “It’s not ripping it out in the sense that you're thinking. It’s shaping them-”

The pad of a finger runs across his bottom lip stopping him mid sentence. He instinctively parts his mouth nervously wetting his lips. The motion brings his tongue into contact with Garak's probing finger. Freezing and unsure what to do he feels Garak edge even closer. Garak’s breath washes across his face alerting him to just how close their lips are. All he would need to do is lean forwards and their lips would connect, it would take so little and it would feel so good. He felt like a teenager again, nervous and vulnerable, unsure if he should make a move in case he receives rejection. It's also not the most professional thing to be doing with a patient, even if the feeling might possibly be mutual. 

Time stills and still nothing happens, caught in suspense of the different possibilities of what could happen next. What a sight they must look like if people walked in on them in this position. Pinned to the wall with Garak leant forward, pressed against the length of his body with their lips almost meeting. Hands cupping his cheeks in a tender embrace. What would Odo or Sisco say if they accidentally found them like this, in total disinterest of the goings on around them. They really should stop…

One of Garak's legs slides between his own, cutting off his trail of thought. The leg puts pressure on his hard length and a long drawn out groan of pure pleasure escapes him and he arches off the wall, the motion bringing his lips into contact with Garak’s. Freezing for a moment when he realizes what's happened and starts to panic, then quickly deciding that the damage is already done he lets caution fly and the next moment he’s kissing Garak. 

The kiss is soft and tender, not like how he imagined kissing Garak would be like. Their lips move together slowly, neither of them pushing further ahead or taking the lead. As he parts his lips Garak seizes the moment to slip in to caress his tongue with his own. It’s warm and sweet and tastes faintly like chocolate. Before he realizes what he's doing he’s chucking into the kiss.

Pulling away Garak asks, “Tell me doctor, what is it about this situation that's making you laugh?”

He's breathless and takes a moment to respond, “Chocolate, you taste like chocolate. You already opened the box?”

His laugh dies on his tongue when lips make their way slowly down his jaw to his throat. Alternatively licking, sucking and nibbling the skin. It slowly progresses into gentle nipping, and then morphing into small bites. If Garak keeps up with this treatment he doesn't think he's going to last much longer. He’s all but given in and stopped trying to hold in his moans now. Instead of holding back he he's now grinding his hips forward rubbing his length against Garak, causing a marvelous friction. Trying to find pressure and some relief. 

Before he's aware of how it’s happened, Garak’s managed to undo his waistcoat and is pulling his shirt out of his pants and continuing to undo the shirt. Not wanting to be the only one undressed he starts to return the favor and unclasp Garak’s tunic. Before he's even managed to get more than two undone, his hands are being tugged away and placed back at his sides. Letting out a frustrated growl he places his hands behind him against the wall, propping himself up while Garak continues undressing him as if nothing had happened. 

As the last button is released the shirt falls open and warm air hits his sensitive heated skin drawing yet another moan from him. Garak chuckles at this and then his hands continue the sensual exploration across his skin. 

The fingers dance across his ribs and he squeaks and squirms in place at the tickling caress. The fingers quickly find and pause over his nipples assessing them. 

"Garak," he pleads. He's not sure what he's asking for but his moan is suddenly answered with a pinch to his nipples and a harsh bite to his neck. This combined with his continued grinding and it throws him over the edge and he's coming in his trousers pressed against Garak.

Moments later when he comes back to himself, and the embarrassment hits him full on. It's been ages since he'd lost control like a love sick teenager and come in his pants without any proper stimulation. Not since being a teenager had he lost control quite so spectacularly. 

What do you say after a situation like this. Try and make an excuse like it's been a while or just go for the truth that he hadn't expected for it to feel quite so good just being touched in that way. Sensing his sudden panic and tensing body, Garak pulls away slightly and places a chaste kiss on his lips. 

"Julian it's alright, don't overthink it."

"Erm, thanks, I -" his reply is cut short when the lights flicker back on and blind them in the sudden shift from darkness to bright light. Blinking a few times adjusting to the sudden light he glances away still somewhat embarrassed by the situation. His pants feel warm and sticky and cling to his clammy skin in a constant reminder of what's just happened. As the silence drags on he wonders if Garak perhaps regrets what just happened between them. When it looks like the silence will continue he forces himself to look at Garak, and sees he's frozen in place with a look of horror on his features. 

His heart plummets confirming his fears. Garak's looking at him in a mixture of horror and sadness, eyes focused on his face and neck. Not sure what to say or do he reaches out towards Garak who recoils from the touch like he's been burned. 

"Garak- what's... what’s wrong?" He asks a little tentatively, he may have been a little over eager and come much to quickly, but this reaction seemed a little harsh. It wasn’t that unforgivable was it?

Garak steps further away from him like being near him is painful. He silently turns and makes his way through the rubble over to his desk. He rummages through a draw and then returns with a medical tricorder. 

"I'm sorry," he states as he hands over the tricorder, and then taking one last sad look at him and turns on his heel and makes his way out of the shop leaving him alone, feeling hurt and stunned.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a lot longer than I planned to get out, better late than never though!  
> For those that have stuck around waiting all these months - Enjoy.

Julian finds himself alone beneath the lights of Garak's shop. He's stunned, staring into the vast space just vacated by Garak. His heart still pounds rapidly with arousal from the startlingly good climax just moments before when everything had been going so well. For something that had been going so well, the complete one-eighty turn was more than a little confusing. 

What could have compelled Garak to leave in such a fashion, when mere moments before they had been locked together in such a passionate embrace that, in his opinion, dulled all past encounters in comparison. Setting aside the rather disastrous start, the end had been spectacular, even if it had been a little premature on his part.

It had seemed to him that it was a mutual feeling of desire, as whilst Garak's initial touches had been tentative and explorative in nature, they had quickly morphed into passionate caresses. Garak certainly hadn't appeared to mind when he'd become aroused from his touches, if anything it had spurred him on further.

Garak had progressed from the innocent explorations, to kissing and touching with an eagerness and passion of a starved man. 

Could Julian have misread the situation and once Garak was no longer in mid-panic attack and could think clearly, he regretted what had transpired between them? 

The grounding exercise had seemed like an acceptable option at the time, but maybe it had been going a step too far and he had pushed some unknown boundary for Garak. That seemed a little odd though, as although the first press of lips had been an accident, Garak had reacted with enthusiasm and had even progressed further than the simple kiss. Kisses that morphed into touches, licks and bites. If the light’s hadn’t come on, would they have progressed further? It had seemed to be heading in that direction.

Feeling uneasy at not knowing Garak's thoughts on the situation, he rubs his hands across his face to clear his mind. It doesn't help much, as he is still regretfully alone and confused.

The overhead lights that in the past had seemed soft and warm are now overly bright and shine down on him now that power has been restored, bringing his attention to the clothing and display rails that lay strewn over the floor, resting amongst dislodged dust and rubble.

Noise from outside spurs him back into action, and with a quick glance down he takes in his dishevelled form, clothes unbuttoned and untucked. Now loose, his trousers have fallen to hang low on his hips, revealing his damp boxers beneath. He’s dismayed to see a tear in the fabric of his trousers across his knee, the once pristine material now stained dark and wet with his blood. 

Gingerly he touches his fingers to his knee and pulls the ripped clothing aside and inspects the wound. The skin has a jagged tear and although it’s inflamed and swollen red it is no longer bleeding. The blood having clotted has stopped the bleeding and will likely only take a dermal regenerator to heal. He will have to do a full checkup later when he has more time.

Cautiously moving towards Garak’s standard-issue commercial replicator, he carefully climbs over fallen shelving, whilst also trying to avoid putting too much weight on his injured knee which intermittently sends sharp shooting pains as it is placed against the floor. At the console, he enters his command override code and calls for a complete medical kit.

Pulling out the dermal regenerator he begins healing the torn skin on his knee, watching the jagged edges slowly knit and seal back together leaving unmarked skin beneath. 

//Jadzia to Dr Bashir\\\ 

His com badge sounds quietly from within the changing room, so he stops what he’s doing and hurries back. The changing room is as he left it, the curtains half-open and clothes piled messily on the bench where he’d thrown them. He finds his com badge and picks it up.

“Bashir here, is everything okay, Jadzia? Are you hurt?” he responds, immediately forgetting about his injuries to focus on Jadzia. His doctor's calm unwavering exterior firmly back in place.

Almost immediately Jadzia’s warm voice comes back sounding relieved. “I’m fine Julian. The senior staff is congregating at Quark’s for an update. I’m en route now and wasn’t sure if you were aware communications were back up again.”

“Thanks, Jadzia. I’m in Garak’s shop. I need to change and then I can meet you there.”

“You need to change?” She enquires curiously. “I’m not far from Garak’s, I will meet you there.”

Feeling the need to be hasty he pulls the curtain closed and quickly gets to work removing the torn and damp trousers, along with his boxers. 

Now would not be the best time for Jadzia to arrive and see him in his current state, and risk her jumping to the wrong conclusions… or worse, the right conclusions. Glancing at himself in the mirror only confirms his suspicions that he looks like a mess. With his top unbuttoned and open, the bite marks Garak had lovingly bestowed on him are in full view. Paired with his damp trousers, it wouldn't take much for Jadzia to guess something of a sexual nature had just occurred between them. 

Or maybe she would notice the marks on his throat and wrists and assume Garak had attacked him. It was true, Garak had attacked and hurt him, but it had been unintentional...

“Julian?” Jadzia asks from just outside the curtains.

He jumps, startled at how close she's gotten while he's been lost in his thoughts. “Sorry, Jadzia. I’m almost dressed. Give me a moment.” 

Hurrying to change he quickly pulls off his remaining clothing and just as he’s about to pull his uniform back on he realises what hadn’t occurred to him. Looking around himself in a panic he realises he has no spare boxers. With nothing else available to him, he's back in his uniform, minus any undergarments and it feels like he's breaking some sort of unspoken rule.

Always dress appropriately. 

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be caught dead going commando, but he also doesn’t want to put his damp soiled pair back on. Unsure about where else to place the clothing he leaves them on the bench. He feels like an embarrassed horny teenager as he hides his damp boxers amongst the pile of clothing, just in case someone should come in here before Garak returns. 

Pulling open the curtains, he jumps, almost colliding with Jadzia, who is surveying the mess of Garak’s shop from directly outside the changing room.

“Sorry, Jadzia. I was trying on a new outfit when all this happened.” He gestures to the state of disrepair Garak’s store is now in. She follows his gaze, surveying the mess and nods in understanding. 

Jadzia turns back towards him and glances into the changing room, her face showing surprise at finding him alone.

“Where's Garak?” Jadzia asks. “I thought he would be here with you, but I didn’t see him on my way through.”

It isn’t that big of a leap for Jadzia to think Garak would be with him, after all, he’s in his store trying on clothing. Her tone, however, holds a hint of disbelief. Had Jadzia expected Garak to stay with him?

Stay and protect him?

Thinking back, there had been a similar situation where Garak had chosen to stay behind when the station had been in serious trouble. After the Cardassian security system had been accidentally triggered, Garak had chosen to infiltrate ops and come to their aid, risking his life to help them in their battle to regain control of the station. Even as the situation had become more dire by the minute, Garak had still stayed by their side. At the time he'd been surprised by Garak's heroism in trying to save the station, given that Garak had no love for his place of exile. 

But.. Could he have misread Garak's motives then? Did Garak choose to stay that time to come to Julian's aid, rather than the station’s?

The soft, pointed clearing of Jadzia's throat reminds him she's waiting for an answer to her question.

“You must have just passed each other. He left shortly before you got here.” It wouldn’t do to tell her too much, anything further and he risks her pulling it apart and analysing everything he says.

“Do you know what caused the explosion?" Julian asks, changing the subject. 

She finally stops assessing him and looks back out at the shop. “I don’t know much. I was in my quarters when it happened. I felt the shockwaves before I heard anything, and when I found communications down, I left for Ops. I passed Odo on the way who said security measures had automatically activated, locking down Ops, so for the moment, it’s not possible to gain access. At least until the security protocols can be bypassed or disabled. So, for now, we’re having to meet in Quark’s.”

"Do you know what the security measures are? Is anyone hurt or trapped in Ops?" Julian asks, as the last time Ops had gone into lockdown the security measures had been lethal.

"Odo said they managed to make contact with the Chief and the Captain, who got stuck inside. They are working on lowering the security measures as we speak. Sounds like it's just locked down though, and no defensive weapons this time, thankfully."

Nodding his relief, he bends down and picks the medical tricorder up and scans the back of his head where it had been thrown into the wall in his struggle with Garak. 

“What happened to you?” Jadzia asks, her voice filled with concern as she watches him scan. 

“When I went to replicate the medical kit one of the displays fell on me. No damage though, just a small amount of bruising,” he lies, while reading the results from the tricorder.

“Well that’s good but I was referring to your neck. It looks bruised.”

Feeling the blood drain from his face, he turns back towards the mirror to inspect the wounds Jadzia claims to see.

He takes in his ragged appearance reflected in the mirror, to see his lips are a deep ruby red, which is still flushed from the kissing. His cheeks are darker than before, and his wide eyes are reflected back at him. He hadn’t completely zipped up his undershirt in his haste to dress, and where it’s open you can see the top of the bruises caused by Garak. From what is visible it just looks like bruising, there is nothing distinctive in the marks to cause Jadzia any concern.

In his haste to speak with Jadzia, he'd forgotten to heal any of the wounds caused by Garak.

“Oh... This?” He fingers his bruised neck. “It’s nothing, like I said, I got hurt after the explosion.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing. It looks painful.” She grasps the collar of the undershirt and pulls aside the clothing where the zip isn’t fully closed to reveal more of the marks. Beneath the clothing, the skin is starting to darken into a bruise in the faint shape of fingers. Nail marks litter one side of his neck where Garak had tightly grasped him, his nails digging deep into his skin. Red shallow puncture marks of Garak’s teeth stand out vivid against his skin where he had bitten Julian in a moment of passion. 

Jadzia’s expression changes from concern into shock. "It looks like you got strangled and then mauled." She half-jokes at him. Disbelief is evident in her voice.

He stays silent, unsure of how to explain the marks away. His silence says enough for Jadzia to assume the worst.

"Julian, what happened? Did Garak do this to you?" Her fingers trail gently over the bite marks on his skin, assessing the damage, but in the process causing him to flinch in pain. Apologetically, she takes the dermal regenerator from Julian and proceeds to remove the bite marks and bruises from his throat.

"Julian did Garak— Did Garak force himself on—”

Alarmed at how quickly the conversation is going downhill and what Jadzia thinks happened he begins to panic. 

"No— God no. It really isn’t what it looks like. Or at least not all of it. Can we discuss this later, over dinner tonight?" And drinks, he silently adds to himself. A few drinks for courage is what he needs to have this particular conversation.

"Dinner tomorrow night, actually?" Julian hastily corrects, remembering his dinner plans with Garak. He doesn't want to cancel tonight's dinner plans with Garak, on the off chance they will still go ahead, though he doubts they will still be in effect.

"Alright yes," she grudgingly agrees.

"Thank you," he utters, relieved. "Come on, let's get to Quark’s."

Picking up his medical supplies he follows Jadzia through the shop and out onto the promenade heading in the direction of Quark’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A great big thanks to [plain_and_simple_tailor (ectogeo)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ectogeo/pseuds/plain_and_simple_tailor) who Beta'd and helped get this into shape.


End file.
